


Eggs Benedict

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, The author was hungry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Eggs Benedict au. The characters of Sherlock as ingredients of eggs Benedict.





	Eggs Benedict

The Sunday morning started as usual. Greg the bacon was taken out of the fridge first. He could feel the heat of the frying pan and knew what was about to happen. He was placed on the hot, smooth surface and groaned in pleasure. So much delightful warmth, he could just lie back and relax as he was becoming crispy and delicious. He was fried slowly and turned occasionally until he was brown as a nut. Then he was set on a paper towel and he could continue relaxing before the big finale.

While Greg was cooking, it was Sherlock the egg's turn. He was cracked into a bowl and then gently slipped into the simmering water. After a moment, the pot he was in was covered and the heat was turned off. Sherlock needed to solidify in complete solitude, the process required concentration.

Around the same time, Mycroft the English muffin was cut in half and toasted. The warm oven was heaven, but one thing prevented him from feeling comfortable. He wasn't alone. Irene the Hollandaise sauce had to remain warm and that meant she was quite close to the oven. Sitting in a container that made pouring easier, she sighed contently, surely only to annoy Mycroft.

It was the time to assemble. Everyone was ready, more or less. The base was Mycroft, of course. Placed on a plate, he waited for his companion, Elizabeth the unsalted butter. She was spread over him lovingly, covered every inch of the wide expanse of the muffin top and melted into him. There wasn't a moment to spare, they were joined by Greg. He lay on top of Mycroft and a melted Elizabeth, pleased to feel Mycroft's rough edges were softened by Elizabeth. The next was a perfectly poached Sherlock. It didn't happen too often; usually, he was too pouty and cranky to behave like a good egg. Perhaps it was the next ingredient that kept him from throwing a disastrous tantrum. Warm, smooth and creamy Irene was poured over him, indulgently slowly. The cherry on top was Kate the chopped parsley sprinkled over Irene.

They all were a bit overwhelmed. One on top of the other, everyone touching their neighbours, different tastes and textures united to brighten the cook's morning. He needed strength to later polish his cheekbones.

Benedict cut a small piece of Mycroft, Greg, and Sherlock. Holding them all on his fork, he dipped them in the creamy goodness of Irene and put it all into his mouth. He hummed in delight. That was the best way to start the day right.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, didn't you think about it? Lol.


End file.
